


You Weren't Suppose to See That

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: Fury (2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't Ask Don't Tell, M/M, i dont know what to tag this with, stupid drabble i need to stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this little bit in the script:</p><p>COON-ASS<br/>Burnt motor oil kills the little fuckers right off. I’ll save a slice for you. You need to get your dick wet, sky pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Weren't Suppose to See That

**Author's Note:**

> Lord help me. I write such stupid shit. 
> 
> I read that bit and it was too good to pass up. Sorry Fury fandom, I contribute nothing but silly things.

Boyd works the cigarette between his fingers, rolling it lazily. The alley wall is hard, uneven brick that’s been jarred so many times by the on-going shelling it’s loose and jutting in places. It presses into his back at awkward angles but even that can’t stop him from enjoying this.

He tilts his head back, helmet scratching against the wall, and takes a long drag, inhaling until he feels his lungs will explode. The following exhale is rewarding, calming. 

Boyd sighs. 

There’s a pleasure in the nicotine as well as in Don’s mouth. In the cool air that saps all heat from his slicked cock whenever Don adjusts and slurps at a different spot. 

Boyd sucks in a breath. His ribs seem to rattle with the effort but maybe he’s just imagining things, it has been a while since they got a few minutes to themselves and God knows the pressure has built and built. 

He presses his hand to Don’s hair, fisting it gently, at first, before Don fights it. Boyd tugs then, smirking down at Don who’s snarling playfully, his mouth stretched over heated flesh. 

Still, Don manages to pull back, ridding himself of Boyd’s hold. 

“Give it here,” he grunts and takes the cigarette Boyd offers. He takes a few drags, pointedly ignoring the state of arousal he’s left his gunner in. 

“Don.” Boyd warns, gloved fingers twitching. 

“I thought patience was a virtue,” Don mutters, handing the cigarette back. He breathes smoke onto waiting flesh before resuming his work. 

His fingers hook in the belt loops of Boyd’s trousers, tugging his hips forward so he can swallow every last inch of bared skin. The alley provides some protection, they chose it specifically, but even with minimal threat of being caught Don still moves quickly - he’s drug it out long enough. 

Boyd groans softly from above him, little noises that are hardly dignified, focused in his chest before squeezing their way out from behind a clenched jaw. Fingers are in Don’s hair again and this time he lets them be, lets Boyd explore blindly. They curl around his ears, scratching behind them before sliding to the nape of his neck. Here Boyd’s touch is far more intimate, not just searching, he caresses Don, his fingers crawling away seconds later, leaving the spots they touched, even when gloved, a tingling discomfort. 

Don’s head bobs and the sounds of him slurping at the head of Boyd’s cock nearly drown out the gunners own needy noises. He’s so close. 

Boyd trembles, the cigarette falls from his lips.

“Top, fuck, stop, I’m.. I’m- _fuck_ , Don, you gotta stop else I’m gonna come in your-” Boyd drawls frantically, his voice cracks as he comes and much to horror Don never misses a beat, warm mouth an easy place to deposit his seed. 

Don doesn’t gag, Boyd has to give him that, and he manages to save his uniform any awkward stains. When Boyd’s knees are threatening to buckle and hes urgently trying to pull away - Don’s tongue a liquid fire along over sensitive skin - only then does Don release him. 

He spits into the mud, holding out his hand and accepting the ready lit cigarette. 

“Hasn’t been like this for a long time,” Don murmurs, not entirely minding the taste of tobacco and salt mixed together, though he has the urge to spit once more. 

“Too much movin' around, ain’t no time for the finer things when we’ve got our wet behind the ears replacement,” Boyd agrees and he’s just getting to tucking himself away when Grady interrupts his thoughts.

“You two dun fucked with each other.”

Grady’s standing at the mouth of the alley, his face that incomprehensible look of confusion and drunkenness it usually is. His mouth is hanging open as he stares at Boyd.

“Got my dick wet, Grady,” Boyd shrugs, zipping his fly with a tug. “Just takin' your advice.”

“Top.. holy fuck, Bible,” Grady says like he’s at a loss for words and then he turns and races off.

Boyd sighs. He steps away from the wall and straightens his jacket before shoving his hands in the pockets. 

“Well, c’mon then,” he beckons and Don follows without a word, already burnt through the first cigarette and lighting another. 

Grady is perched on top of the Fury near Gordo’s hatch.

“I know what you two did,” he says, words slurring.

“And what’d we’d do, Coon-Ass?” Don asks flicking the cigarette he’s taken one drag on into the mud. 

He stomps on it. 

“You both were screwin'.”

Gordo laughs from his hatch, takes a swig of some wine he procured, “You’re drunk again, Grady.”

“No, no, no, no, it really happened, Top was suckin' at Bible’s divinity rod!” Grady points despite Gordo’s increasing laughter. “In that alley over there, I swear on my momma’s life, and your momma’s!”

“Keep dreamin', Grady,” Boyd says softly, taking a seat beside the Fury. He thumbs open his bible, barely registering Don brushing his shoulder as he goes in search of Norman. 

“I don’t care, Boyd,” Grady mutters, “I don’t, but I know what I saw.”

“Mhm and how much alcohol have you had?” Boyd asks not looking up.

Gordo snickers. 

“Man, you must be loco if you think Top would stick Bible.”

“He was slurpin' away like a baby at a tit,” Grady shoots back and this sends Gordo into another laughing fit. 

Boyd sighs.

“If you both insist on ruining the peace and quiet then I’m gonna move.”

He doesn’t wait for their answer merely picks up his rickety wooden chair and moves to a building where another soldier is napping against. There he settles.

He spots Don and Norman across the way, doesn’t bother saying anything when they disappear into a near by apartment building. Sliding his glasses on he begins to read.


End file.
